Lips On Fire

Sometimes the ice burns,
a fish moves in your eyes.

The ubiquity was at lowest level,
nothing was visible in sun.

Mission crawl in the crotch
does not find any fever.

The golden cave has caved in.
Moon will find another sky.

Nerves were green, pain was
black. No mercy for hooks.

Your map was here and my stitches.
Let us see, who tells the lie.

poem by Satish Verma
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!